


What happens next?

by MidLifeLez



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 17:01:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8761573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidLifeLez/pseuds/MidLifeLez
Summary: Bernie and Serena are alone for the first time since that kiss in their office.





	1. This is really happening

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever piece of fanfic, I hope people like it.

"I'm going to bed," Jason announced, kissing each of them on the cheek before backing out of the room, grinning. "Night, Jason," said Serena, daring to look at Bernie only once Jason had made a show of closing the door. They'd been sat next to one another on the sofa all evening, hands resting together between them. Excruciating. Wonderful. Now they searched one another's faces for a sign as to what happened next. Finally Serena found the courage and the second that she moved forward, Bernie pushed forward too. Their lips met and Serena gave another of those sweet little moans. This was really happening.

Bernie tentatively pushed her tongue into Serena's mouth and drew it back again, unsure of how fast this was going to move. It hadn't taken long for them to lose their nerve in the office, aware of the ward buzzing around them and Jason hovering outside the door. She thought about the way that Serena had looked at her as they pulled apart, the warmth in her eyes. How had she run away from her? How had it not been obvious that this was it, that she was the one? But of course it had been obvious, and that was what terrified her the most. In a matter of weeks she had gone from flirting across the desk to imagining a future with Serena. A long future. A happy future. Christ, wasn't that the scariest thing of all?

Her chain of thought was broken when she felt Serena's tongue play with hers. While Serena worried that she was clumsy in her desire, Bernie felt as though they were dancing; she could practically hear music. Daft woman, she told herself, smiling, and Serena took the smile as an invitation to press closer. Bernie traced her hand down Serena's side, arcing her thumb over her breast as she did; Serena gasped, kissed Bernie harder, and then drew back.

"What? Are you OK?" Bernie tried to look in to Serena's eyes, but they were cast down.

"I…" How was she going to say this? "I want this so much, Bernie. I've been thinking about it for weeks. But…" Bernie's heart raced.

"I don't know how to touch you."

A pause, and then Bernie laughed, gently. Serena's cheeks flashed red. "No, no, Serena, I'm not laughing at you. I'm not – " she broke off, pushing herself up off the sofa and straddling Serena's lap. "You know exactly how to touch me. How do you touch yourself?" An even deeper red crept across Serena's face, and Bernie clasped Serena's hands in hers.

"OK. How do you like to be touched?" Finally Serena lifted her eyes to meet Bernie's. "Well, I…" she faltered.

Bernie eased the blouse from Serena's left shoulder and left a slow, wet line of kisses from her earlobe down her neck and along her collar bone. When she drew back Serena's eyes were closed. "Yep," Serena said, struggling to find the words for how this felt, a trail of explosions on her skin. Bernie smiled and undid the few buttons on the front of Serena's top; she could see Serena's breathing was fast and shallow as she ran the tip of her index finger along the line of Serena's bra. It looked new, and her heart swelled further at the thought of Serena picking it out this morning. The hope that she must have felt. That she had so nearly crushed. Idiot. She kissed Serena again as she felt for the clasp to undo her bra. "May I?" she said, her hand hovering waiting for Serena's reply. "Please," Serena whispered, her eyes still closed in reverie. By the time she felt Bernie's mouth on her breast she felt sure that she was dreaming after all, but when she cried out Bernie's panicked reaction brought her round. There they both were, panting, Bernie on her lap with her hand across her lips to stifle the delighted yelp that threatened to summon Jason. Serena bit a finger, playfully.

"It's OK, he won't come back in," she said. "He understands that much about relationships." They both smiled coyly at the word.

"Do you want to…" Bernie trailed off, her eyes moving towards the hallway.

"Yes," said Serena, with a certainty that thrilled both of them.

"Thank god, because my knees are killing me," Bernie laughed, as she stood up. "We might feel like teenagers but…" She held out a hand to pull Serena up as she drew her blouse around her, and then led her to where she knew Serena's bedroom was.

As soon as they were inside Bernie eased Serena back against the door and kissed her. 'Teenagers' is about right, Serena thought, as she pushed her pelvis against Bernie, eliciting a deep, guttural moan that vibrated in Serena's mouth. It was just about the most delicious thing that Serena could ever think of happening to her.

More urgently than before, Bernie kissed her way down Serena's neck, stopping briefly to kiss each nipple before working down her stomach. Serena's skin was soft and dewy and Bernie could think of nothing else. As she fumbled with the button on Serena's trousers she felt a touch on her shoulder.

"Sorry," she said, looking up. "We don't have to. I'm sorry." She pushed her hair off her face.

"No, believe me, I want to," Serena said as she watched Bernie's tousles falling immediately back into their habitual state of chaos. "But I don't know if I'll be able to stay standing if we do." She smiled at Bernie, who once again got to her feet and took Serena's hand, leading her to stand next to the bed. She switched on a lamp and gazed at Serena – topless, mouth in an open smile – in the light that it cast. "You're beautiful," she said. This time Serena didn't stop her as she reached for the button and eased her out of her trousers. She leaned in and kissed Serena hard on the lips.

"Don't I get to see you?" Serena teased. She unbuttoned Bernie's shirt, watching as Bernie's chest heaved and fell as she unclasped her bra. Serena had never seen a woman like this, and for a moment she hesitated. Had it always been there, this incredible desire that she now felt? Bernie watched her, absorbed in interpreting the tiny shifts in Serena's expression. She took off her own trousers and watched as Serena surveyed every inch of her. What am I supposed to do? Serena wondered. What if I get it wrong?

"What do you _want_ to do?" Bernie asked her, as if she'd heard every thought.

"I… I…" Serena sat on the edge of the bed, her lips inches from Bernie's stomach. She felt delirious, intoxicated. Bernie was every bit as muscular and magnificent as she had imagined. "I don't know, Bernie, but you're glorious. Glorious." She kissed Bernie's stomach and there was that delicious gasp again. When they looked at one another again, each had tears in her eyes. "I want you," Bernie said, authoritatively. Serena obeyed, laying back in the middle of the bed, the winter duvet soft and warm beneath her.

"Close your eyes," said Bernie, half whispering.

Again, Serena obeyed. She was more aroused than she could ever remember being; if Bernie even thought about climbing on top of her, she knew she would come, hard and fast. Instead she felt Bernie ease her legs apart, felt her climb on to the bed… felt her place her head between her legs and… and nothing. Tangled blonde hair tickling the insides of her thighs; warm breath mocking her keening body. No touch. She opened one eye to look down.

"Don't!" Bernie said forcefully, and the split second that Serena's eye closed she flashed the tip of her tongue across Serena's clit, sliding two fingers inside her, pushing upwards against her G-spot. Serena exploded in to noise, squealing with pleasure. Instinctively she drew her knees up and placed her feet on Bernie's thighs, angling her hips upwards. Bernie slowed her hand right down and pushed her tongue flat against Serena's clitoris, watching her stomach crunch again and again. Serena moaned quietly, as if in a blissful state of disbelief, each time.

 _How could this beautiful, innocent woman have found her way in to my life?_ Bernie wondered, her kisses creeping back up Serena's body.

 _How can it never have felt like this before?_ Serena wondered as Bernie's lips skipped up her torso. _And what happens next?_


	2. I'm all yours

Nothing happened next, in fact.

Well, not _that_ , anyway. Bernie, groggily satisfied, made her way up to the pillow and all but crashed on to it, her chin resting gently on Serena's shoulder. She had sleepily pushed away any attempts Serena made to touch her below the waist, but hadn't minded the hand lightly cupping her breast as they both fell asleep. When Serena had woken in the night with a chill and pulled the duvet up over them both, Bernie had shuffled over a bit and lay on her front, breathing heavily in to the cleanest smelling sheets she could ever remember sleeping on. Serena watched the fall and rise of her back, quite enchanted, before dropping the duvet down and letting her own eyes close. Berenice Wolfe fast asleep in her bed! Well well.

When the first light of the morning crept into the room, this room that she had put just-so before heading to work the previous day, silly old fool, Serena was staring at the ceiling, fretting. She desperately wanted to touch the base of her neck, to pinch the skin a bit, to calm her mind, but she worried that any movement she made would wake Bernie, who was still breathing heavily into the mattress. God, her shoulders. That hair. It was by no means an entirely physical thing, this thing she had for her co-lead; Bernie was so capable and tough, yet so kind, so tender, so… fragile… Serena had been smitten for some time before she glanced at those lips and found herself hoping they would one day kiss her. But there was nothing that she didn't like about Bernie's body now that she had seen it, now that she had felt it, now that she had been against and under it.

It was just that she was still worried that she didn't know what to do to it, to her, to Bernie, that would make her feel the way that she herself had felt last night. Still felt, in all honesty; Bernie had put through her such immense sensation that she felt as though she would set a Geiger counter crackling madly, even now. She thought about what Bernie had said last night, and about how she touched herself (a lot, as it happens, since Ms Wolfe had buggered off to Ukraine with Serena's heart under her heel). She'd never really bothered much with the top half; never really been able to step out of herself far enough to imagine that it was someone else fondling her breasts. No, her nipples weren't for fooling, and remained resolutely uncharmed by her own touch. But she thought she knew what she would do with Bernie's, because she knew already that she wanted to play with them, tease them, kiss them, and she hoped that Bernie would like that too.

It was the other stuff that worried her – not because she didn't want to, she marvelled ( _me! Middle-aged divorcee! It wasn't so long ago that Robbie was in this bed!_ ), but because she was far less sure of how to do it… properly. Bernie would know exactly what she wanted, and what if she grew exasperated at Serena's fumbling attempts? What if her surgical dexterity meant nothing here? And then there was her mouth to think about. What would she do with that? She should have done it last night – she could have done it last night, sat on the edge of the bed staring at Bernie's midriff. Why hadn't she? Had it not occurred to her, or had she avoided it? No, no, Bernie had taken charge at that point, and she'd had no choice but to lie back. And after that Bernie hadn't wanted anything, had asked her for nothing but peace, and Serena, mind and body blown, had slept too. They would both be well rested now, though, and things would happen. At some point she would again find herself inches from Bernie's groin. What if she didn't like it? No, she nearly said out loud, I almost certainly will like it, love it, because I love her – she looked over at Bernie in case even the thought might have startled her, and watched again as deep, slow breaths pushed Bernie's back gently up and down.

Eventually she seemed to be stirring. Now or never, Campbell.

Gently she moved over to push her body against Bernie's back, lightly at first and then with a bit more desire, nuzzling the back of her neck and starting to seek an avenue south for her right hand.

"Water doon?" Bernie murmured into the mattress. What? Serena pulled away a little and Bernie lifted her head. "What are you doing, Ms Campbell?" she asked, turning that foxy little half-smile on Serena.

"I, er, sorry. Sorry."

"Don't apologise; I can think of far worse ways to be woken up than having your back tickled by Serena Campbell's nipples" – she looked at them appreciatively: really, they were like roses – "but I do prefer to be able to breathe," she finished, turning and propping her head up on her right hand so that she could look at Serena properly. "Not especially into the really kinky stuff." The slight stress she put on the word 'really' put butterflies into Serena's stomach.

"Yes. Quite right. Sorry." Serena stared up at the ceiling again.

"What's the matter?" Bernie asked. She'd lost track of how many times Serena had apologized for non-existent offences on the few occasions that they had enjoyed any amount of physical intimacy.

Serena closed her eyes. Teenagers had fun but they also felt like idiots half the time, she remembered. They act like they know it all and at the same time are consumed by the fear that they in fact know nothing.

"I don't want to get it wrong. I don't want… to disappoint you."

"Serena, you couldn't." Bernie has been in such a state of arousal since yesterday afternoon that she knows Serena could put on a pair of oven gloves and paw at her like a piñata, and it would be gorgeous.

"I'm sure I could," Serena said, still looking hard at the ceiling.

Bernie leapt up and straddled Serena ( _was this going to be a thing? Oh, I hope so_ , thinks Serena), forcing her to make eye contact. It had… other… benefits, but no, it was the eye contact that mattered.

"Serena, look at this room."

She did as instructed, surveying the dormer windows whose blinds were letting shafts of sunlight inside; casting an eye over the Sharps wardrobes that really had been a good investment because - Bernie shifts slightly and Serena's mind snaps back to the woman on top of her.

"Look at this bed."

It is on the large side. And soft. And warm. And swathed in hideously expensive sheets that she just happened to have put on the night before last.

"Does this feel like a bunk? Does it look like a store, where you've just about got time to get your hands down each others pants before someone walks dangerously near? Can you hear soldiers snoring? Can you hear distant gunfire? When I do this" - she thrusts her hips back and then forward, slowly but firmly making closer contact with Serena, who groans – "are you silenced by mortal fear?"

She's saying it all so softly, her hands, when they're not gesturing at the space around them (so much space!), running up and down Serena's sides, soothing any tension that her words might encourage.

"This is all new to me too," Bernie whispers, once again flexing her hips. "All this time. All this space." She's breathy now. "Seeing you like this. I'm so happy. Happier than ever. And I'm not waiting for 'my turn'."

She leans back slightly, propping herself up by placing a hand on each of Serena's thighs – really, quite the best thighs she's ever felt – and easing them ever so slightly further apart. More contact.

"No, no. Bernie, no." Bernie stops immediately, pushes up and looks at Serena, her eyes darting all over that face, that beautiful face, trying to work out what's wrong. Serena's hands haven't moved from her hips, so it can't be that bad.

" _I_ want to do _you_ ," Serena says, instantly regretting her inability to find better words as Bernie's lips curl into a teasing smile.

"You want to _do me_ , Ms Campbell?"

Serena waits for the bed to open up and swallow her, but it doesn't, it bloody doesn't.

Bernie takes Serena's hand from her left hip and moves it down slightly, leaves Serena's thumb hovering over the point just beneath her clitoris that she knows works so well. She casts a look at Serena – just about the most seductive look Serena has ever seen, as it happens – and then gently nudges that thumb closer to her.

Serena tries not to be too grumpy about it, but she doesn't want to be passive. "I don't just want to do the easy part, Bernie. I want to get you there. I want it to be because of me." Bernie takes a deep breath and leans so that her mouth is millimetres from Serena's ear.

"Serena, I am going to come in about eight seconds, and that is because I have been sitting on top of you, looking at you, for the last however long. Now, if you don't want to do this, you can turn chivalrously away while I finish myself off and then we can start again, or you can push your thumb down and, oh! I say." Serena is already there, sliding her thumb up and down and delighting in how wet it is. She kisses Bernie again and feels her twitch, enjoys the rush of Bernie's breath over her tongue, luxuriates in the little 'oof' that escapes from Bernie's mouth precisely eight seconds later. As she tries to slow down her breathing, Bernie's eyes crawl all over Serena's face once again, and finally she plants the sweetest of kisses on the tip of Serena's nose. "Now, what is it, exactly, that you're going to do to me?

"I'm all yours."


	3. Glorious

Bernie lay flat on her back, arms stretched out to either side, trying to remember the last time she had felt like this. She looked back through the relevant moments in her life and realised it was like flicking through a book recommended by a bad friend. _This_ – this combination of elation and ease – she decided was all new. Might even be joy. Well, if anyone could bring joy into a person’s life, it was Serena Campbell. Where other people had personality, Serena had spirit; where others offered succour, Serena gave soul. Where… where was Serena?

Hands holding the edges of the vanity unit, Serena stood in the en suite and looked at herself in the mirror. Did she appear any different? She felt as though she was inhabiting an entirely new body, one that was all nerve-endings and no skeleton. Nope, she thought, turning slightly and examining herself; still the same lines in the same places, the same inch to be pinched here and there. She looked at her thumb, and thought about what it had done. She smiled at her reflection, her lips casting further up one side of her face than the other. _Serena Campbell: lesbian_. Still had a ring to it. _Girlfriend of Bernie Wolfe._

Just then Bernie nudged the door very slightly further open. “Forgive me,” she said, in a mock whisper. “I don’t know what you got up to with Edward and Robbie - don’t want to know, frankly – but I’ve always found it helps to be in the same room…” Serena smiled in to the mirror, and Bernie could tell from the breath that escaped with it that Serena was still a little anxious. She kissed her before she could utter another apology, spinning them round together so that she was between Serena and the sink. For a while they only stood and looked at one another: Bernie’s arms linked behind the small of Serena’s back, Serena running her hands slowly up and down Bernie’s triceps.

When she looked in to Bernie’s eyes, Serena felt as though she was looking in through a window that no one else had ever seen into. One that perhaps had never been open before. She looked at Bernie’s cheekbones – pink, as ever – and realised with a thrill that she had been admiring those for a long while. Weeks. Months? She looked at the blonde curls caressing Bernie’s ears, shining under the skylight like strands of silk on a woodland web. She took her time to admire Bernie’s neck, all strong lines and a jugular notch that she wanted to dive into. Serena couldn’t remember ever giving too much thought to another woman’s breasts, but even from a sample of four she’d decided that Bernie’s were damn near perfect. Neither of them looked like 20-somethings, or even 30-somethings, but Bernie’s service career had kept her trim and toned and –

“Do you want me to turn round so you can see if you’d like the rump steak today, madam?” Bernie’s voice – she’d even affected some kind of cockney accent – cut through Serena’s thoughts and immediately made her blush. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like, I mean, I, you, you’re not a piece of meat.”

Bernie smiled, emitted a single bark of a laugh.

“No I mean it’s not lust,” Serena said, a flicker of disappointment seizing Bernie’s features for just a fraction of a second. “I mean it _is_ that” – Serena cast an appreciative glance at Bernie’s washboard stomach, her fingertips landing on Bernie’s abs for a moment – “but it’s not _just that_.” Again Bernie smiled. Gave Serena a look that she hoped said, _I would stand here for you all day_.

“When I’m with you,” Serena said, leaning in to Bernie and laying her head on her shoulder, “I want the rest of the world to stop existing. I want never to let go. I want to feel my skin next to your skin forever.” The words landed hot on Bernie’s neck, but she suppressed the urge to joke about Serena’s newfound poetic streak and let them sink in. She gently rubbed her thumb across Serena’s spine. Hoped it would say, _I’m listening_. Hoped it would say, _I’m not scared_.

Serena ran her fingers over Bernie’s hip bone in response, applying just a hint of pressure, as if she wanted to know precisely where to find the edges; she was looking down to watch her hand work the line up and over the iliac crest, back and forth. She was completely enchanted by Bernie’s body.

“Can I kiss you?” Bernie whispered. Serena smiled, a smile that carved deep dimples into her cheeks, and kissed her tenderly. Her hand was flat on Bernie’s stomach, now, inching its way higher; when it grazed Bernie’s breast and then grasped it, the taller woman inhaled sharply and moaned. Reassured, Serena ran her tongue down Bernie’s neck – she wasn’t sure where she’d picked that up from, but by god it felt good – and planted kisses down her sternum before finally OH GOD drawing a nipple into her mouth and caressing it with her tongue. Serena felt Bernie’s skin heat up on her lips and could’ve sung; Bernie felt the flash and gripped the basin behind her, back arched, breathing hard.

Serena had a hand on each of Bernie’s hips now, holding her at bay as she enjoyed this exploration of Bernie’s chest. Every bit of skin she touched seemed to fizz underneath her, and she wanted to touch all of it. She rolled one nipple between her fingers while the other submitted to her tongue lapping; Bernie stood, head turned to the ceiling, and panted against the back of her own hand. Just as she was about to beg Serena to move lower, she felt those lips begin to trace a pattern on her stomach. Serena heard the relief in Bernie’s breath and swiped her thumb all too briefly down the crease at Bernie’s hip, keeping the other hand firm as Bernie bucked. “Fuck,” Bernie breathed, “Serena… fuck.”

Serena had expected to take a moment’s pause when she reached Bernie’s pubic hairline – thought she would naturally hesitate at the… new reality of it. Instead she found herself _thoroughly_ turned on: Bernie smelled glorious – that word again, she thought, but how else to describe it? – and was practically mewling. Her hands on Serena’s head were gentle but Serena knew that must be taking an inordinate amount of restraint. Kneeling now she ran a hand up the inside of Bernie's thigh, nudging her legs apart slightly, and waited until Bernie was mid-cry to run her tongue along glistening wet lips. Up an octave. Maybe two.

No time to admire her handiwork: Bernie was begging now, sliding her own fingers towards her clitoris. Serena took her hand, kissed it, and moved it aside. Slowly she moved her tongue around Bernie’s clit instead, noticing the hitch in Bernie’s breath each time she passed underneath it. Feeling her tongue tire Serena moved her thumb into position instead, kissing her way up Bernie’s hip as her thumb applied alternating pressure and her fingers teased the opening slightly further down. “Do you want-“ Serena started to ask, cut off by Bernie’s low and trembling voice. ”YES!” Serena thought about the angle she was at and slid two fingers carefully into Bernie, smiled at the huff of breath that it prompted, and let her tongue take over from her thumb once again. She was struggling to keep a check on her own body, and as she felt Bernie’s muscles flutter around her fingers – oh, that was a welcome new sensation – she felt a trickle down her own thigh. She wanted to cry from the perfection of it, and was glad to see, when Bernie let herself down to the floor, that she had teared up too.

“I know it’s too soon,” Serena said through a teary laugh, “but-“

“I love you,” Bernie said, rolling her hand over Serena’s knee. It tickled. “I should have told you months ago.”


End file.
